


Milk and Honey

by anaraine



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 07:16:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11270655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaraine/pseuds/anaraine
Summary: Sabé shares both a fond memory and a taste of home, in an attempt to get Queen Amidala to retire to her bed.





	Milk and Honey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shiningstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiningstar/gifts).



> In terms of timeline, this is maybe a month or so after Phantom Menace - so Sabé and Padmé are both fourteen. There is some mutual crushing going on, but nothing explicit or warranting the 'underage' tag.

It is closing in on the third hour when Sabé is relieved from her shift by Rabé. This is what the Trade Federation occupation has done to them. Sleeping in shifts and watching for trouble this deep inside the palace.

Sabé would rest easier if Nute Gunray was forced to answer for his crimes, but the longer the investigation goes on, the more likely he will get away with it. It is _infuriating_. Thousands of lives were lost in the invasion of Naboo, and for what? For money the Trade Federation doesn't even need? They already have such a wealthy shipping conglomerate that they have managed to acquire a seat in the Galactic Senate.

It is of little consolation that Senator Palpatine has managed to make his bid for Chancellor. Oh, Sabé is sure that he will do what he can —he has always made time for Queen Amidala— but he will need to be careful in these early days. Despite how his election came about, he will not be able to do anything that so visibly favors the planet he calls home.

Sabé is still stewing in her anger when she walks past the heavy doors of the Queen's quarters. Despite the solid construction, there is a faint light coming from beneath the door that makes her frown. Were her Queen actually in her bedroom, no light would be shining under this door. But if she is at her _desk_...

She closes her eyes, and takes stock of her current energy levels. Her shoulders ache, her eyes are tired and Sabé would very much like to go to sleep. But she's not quite dead on her feet, and Saché and Yané will be the ones attending to the Queen for the informal morning audience. She'll still have enough time to sleep and be refreshed by the fourteenth hour, which is when she is officially back on duty.

It is with a sour frown that Sabé heads for one of the hidden staircases and begins her trek down. She doesn't like the idea of leaving her Queen for so long during the day, but she does trust her sister handmaidens. And as loathe as she is to admit it, it would be better for Sabé to get a full rotation's sleep and be fresh and alert instead of tired and prone to mistakes.

Of course, the same could be said for her Queen — which is why Sabé is in the kitchens, digging out a serving tray and preparing a nightcap she intends to share. There are only a few kitchen staff present this early in the morning, baking the fresh pastries and loaves of bread that will be served with breakfast. They ignore her rummaging in the kitchen, but the woman in charge has a pinched look on her face, as if she were biting her own tongue. Since Sabé has not asked for assistance, she is required to ignore her —or any other handmaiden's— presence.

Still, Sabé knows exactly what she's looking for and where to find it. She's in and out of the kitchens within ten minutes, and as she leaves she can feel the release of tension from those still watching. Sabé is not offended. She would be just as irritable if someone waltzed into her domain and started touching her things.

The trip back up to the Royal quarters is much harder than the one down. It has been a long day, the tray is heavy in her hands, and Sabé keeps having to remind herself to lift her knees higher to keep from tripping on her own skirts. She almost, _almost_ wishes she had called for the kitchen staff to come up, rather than going down herself.

But the entire palace is still reeling from the occupation, still finding their footing in a place that should be safe and familiar but is not. There have been just as many new hires as there have been people taking leaves of absence — and Sabé has not had the time to acquaint herself with every unfamiliar face. She will, in time. But as things stand, it is much more efficient and _safe_ to get a midnight tray herself.

Even if her feet ache with every step.

When Sabé finally arrives at the Queen's door it is a relief. She takes a moment to sigh and roll her neck, the faint pops of her spine echoing in the corridor. It is not the graceful behavior expected of a handmaiden, but there is also no one around to see it. Sabé straightens her shoulders, and then shifts to free a hand to knock, balancing the weight of the tray against her hip.

"Your Highness?" she calls, loud enough to be heard through the strong doors.

"Come in!" the Queen returns, but the words are both muffled by door and somewhat distracted.

Sabé frowns deeply. The door to the Queen's quarters is one of the very few in the entire palace that is not pneumatic. It is one of last lines of defense to protect the Queen — there are no electronics that can be sliced to gain entry. Someone could break the door down, of course, but only after expending a significant amount of effort.

It is with a sense of dread that Sabé presses her shoulder into the door to open it. That it _does_ open under her touch is a reason for honest dismay. Even though they've decided to take shifts to make sure that there are not last little presents from the Trade Federation, Sabé thought her Queen would have enough sense to bolt the karkin' _door_.

But that will have have to be an argument for another time. Not now, when her goal is to get Queen Amidala to retire to her bed.

It is heartening to see Padmé at the desk, the trappings of Queen Amidala put away for the night. The slight curve to her posture is the only indication that she's tired, however, which is worrying. She looks up from the holos and flimsiplast littering the dest and gifts Sabé a small smile.

"Sabé," she says, the name falling from her mouth on a sigh.

"Your Highness," Sabé replies, heart fluttering. She corrects herself just as quickly. "Padmé. I saw your light on."

The furrow in Padme's brow eases and her smile deepens. "And you decided to bring me a midnight snack?" She shuffles some of her work around to clear a space on her desk.

"Not quite," Sabé says, setting her burden down and lifting the domed cover of the serving tray.

Beneath it lies a steaming carafe of milk, and a small pot of honey.

Padmé's smile fades, glancing between Sabé and the tray. "This is not subtle."

"It is not meant to be," Sabé says, the late hour loosening her tongue. "I am tired. If you stopped to think about it, you would realize that _you_ are tired."

"Sabé, I still have so much—"

"Naboo needs her Queen to be well rested and sharp. Not falling over herself trying to stay awake." She hesitates, because what she wants to say is not particularly kind, but perhaps it needs to be said. "The dead are already dead. The living need you at your best. Now, would you care to share a drink with me?" Her heart is racing, unsure if she's gone too far, or not far enough. One would be much easier to address than the other.

Padmé stares at her for a long moment, brown eyes wide. When she looks away, it is to reach for one of the cups, turning it to sit right-side up in its saucer.

She says nothing, but Sabé is willing to take her capitulation for what it is.

Sabé sits on a padded stool left next to the desk (she suspects it has seen use as a makeshift table this night) and lifts the carafe to pour warm milk into Padmé's cup, and then her own. Padmé puts an obscene amount of honey into her own cup, but as long as she goes to sleep after this Sabé doesn't care. At least honey is better than sweet paste, which tastes better than nutrient paste but has very little actual _nutrients_.

The spoonful of honey she puts into her own cup is much more restrained. Stirring gently, Sabé waits until the heat of the milk licks the spoon clean, and then sets it down on her saucer.

That first sip is perfect.

It is home and warmth and comfort, the memory of her mother ruffling her hair at the kitchen table, letting her gulp down a glass of milk and honey before sending her off to brush her teeth. Sabé can feel the weight of her day lifting from her shoulders as she sits and breathes, the scent of _home_ tickling her nose.

Padmé sits across from her, cup cradled in her hands to better soak in the warmth seeping through the fine porcelain. Her eyes are closed but her posture has slumped into something more lax.

"We always used millaflower honey at home," she says. "My grandmother swore by it. There was an entire pantry dedicated just for honey in her house."

Sabé hums. "Well, millaflowers do have a soporific effect."

Padmé laughs softly. "That's what mama used to say. She kept around a jar or two for us, but not a whole pantry."

"Mama generally tended to go for wildflower honey," Sabé offers. "They came in the prettiest hand painted jars. When we finished with them she'd put the jars up on the windowsill where they would catch the afternoon sun and cast colored light across the kitchen. We spent hours in there, folding our hands over specks of light like we were trying to catch fireflies."

"It sounds beautiful."

"I can show you," Sabé says without thinking. She _can't_ take Padmé to her parents' house. _She_ can't even go back to her parents' house, not while she serves Queen Amidala. She has left her House and changed her name for her own safety as well as her family's; to go back for such a silly reason would be courting disaster. But for the first time since accepting the position as a Royal Handmaiden, Sabé misses home.

"I'm sure we could find some here," Padmé says softly, eyes soft and sympathetic. She reaches across the desk to take Sabé's hand in her own. "The kitchens must go through dozens of honey jars a day."

Sabé feels her cheeks flush, even as her heart warms with gratitude. "The Vima Tower catches the afternoon sunlight."

"Then that is where we shall place them," Padmé says, and squeezes Sabé's hand gently before letting go. She stands and stretches, arms raised high above her head as her long braid flops over her shoulder to fall down her back.

Sabé begins to gather the detritus of their nightcap, stacking their used cups back onto the tray and replacing the domed cover. It appears her goal here has been achieved, and she is more than willing to retreat to her own bed.

"Oh, just leave that," Padmé says, catching Sabé by the wrist and tugging her towards the bedroom. "We can send it down in the morning after breakfast."

"Your Highness?"

Padmé turns, lip caught in her teeth. "Or did you want to go back to your own quarters? I know Yané is a little loud in the morning—"

 _Oh_. "No, this is fine," Sabé says, words tripping off her tongue. It's not like they haven't slept together in the past, but usually it is in groups of three or more. She manages a smile that is more honest. "I don't mind."

The answering smile that crosses Padmé's face is more than a little relieved. "Good. You can use any of my nightgowns, if you wish."

Sabé doesn't relish the idea of sleeping in her current outfit, and gladly takes her up on the offer. While she does so, Padmé retreats into the 'fresher to tend to her nightly ablutions. They switch places like a well-oiled machine, though Sabé takes a moment longer in scrubbing her face clear of makeup.

They meet again on the bed, throwing back the covers and crawling under the sheets. While Sabé leans over to turn off the last light, she spares a thought to be grateful she had bolted the door behind her when entering the Queen's quarters. It means that one of them will have to get up to let Saché and Yané in, but better that than leaving it unlocked.

The bed is large enough for ten grown adults, provided they were arranged artistically, which means that it is more than large enough for two girls still growing. But Padmé and Sabé gravitate to each other anyways, facing each other to form a matched pair.

"Good night," Padmé says.

"Good morning," Sabé corrects, and closes her eyes to Padmé's tired giggle, her own mouth curving into a smile.


End file.
